


Being Michael Malkovich

by GaleTheSnail



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaleTheSnail/pseuds/GaleTheSnail
Summary: Summary: Mickey decides to “borrow” someone else’s identity when their names get mixed up in the mail. While under an assumed name, he meets a charming redhead. What was supposed to be a one-night stand may turn into something more, but can Mickey keep up the ruse when he is falling for someone?
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	1. Being John Malkovich Ch. 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is kind of a long intro, but the other chapters will all be Gallavich goodness.

Mickey stood in his small bathroom staring down at the dingy sink. The water was practically scalding as he furiously tried to scrub away his grease-stained hands, but it wasn’t enough to completely clean them. Mickey stood there in frustration at his inability to complete this task. He closed his eyes while trying to decompress and remember why he took on the life of a mechanic in the first place. Escaping Terry and the series of nightmarish crimes his father had him commit was the greatest moment of his life. Mickey didn’t regret leaving the small felonies behind. 

Washing off car grease from the garage he worked in was better than scrubbing blood from his hands. He was glad not to have to look over his shoulder every five minutes, but he was hoping that life on the ‘straight-and-narrow’ would have afforded him a slightly better living situation than this. He was okay with his apartment. Sure, there were water stains on the ceiling, thin walls, and everything seemed to break all the time, but it was his. Still he wanted something more. 

‘Fuck this pity party shit,’ Mickey said to himself in the mirror. He grabbed a towel to wipe his hands quickly and proceeded to throw it to the floor next to the shower. The cleanliness of his hands and the mess in the bathroom could be tomorrow’s problem. All Mickey was concerned with now was grabbing an ice-cold beer, plopping down on his couch, and watching old episodes of Top Chef. Just as he positioned himself in the exact, perfect spot Mickey’s phone buzzed across the room.

‘Goddammit! Can’t I get just two seconds of peace and quiet around here,’ Mickey yelled as he stormed across the room to grab his phone. He rolled his eyes when he looked down to see his sister’s name pop on screen. 

“What the fuck could you possibly want right now, douchebag?” 

“Whoa, nice attitude. Who pissed in your cornflakes today?” Mandy shot back. 

“You did! I just got home from work thinking to myself, ‘Oh wouldn’t this be a nice time to not be bothered by my whorebag sister,’ and then who decides to call me? You. The whorebag I was referring to a few seconds ago,” Mickey yelled. 

“You’re just pissed because I probably interrupted Top Chef, aren’t you,” Mandy asked with a smirk in her tone.

“Shut up. Whatever. What do you want?”

“I was just calling to tell you to check your mail. I sent you something for your birthday because this whorebag is the only one that cares about you, stupid.”

“Ah shit. I guess I should apologize for the mean thing I said. Well, I’m not going to do that, but thanks for the gift!” Mickey said sarcastically. 

“You’re such an ass, but I love you. Happy early birthday!”

“I love you too Mands. Don’t tell anyone though. I might have to take it back when I see this crappy gift you bought me.”

“Shut up. Call me tomorrow and tell me how you like it. Also, tell me who wins Top Chef,” Mandy giggled.

“You’re a dick. Bye sis.”

Mickey hung up the phone in a slightly better mood than he was in before. Mandy had that affect on him. As big of a jerk as he could be to her sometimes, she saw right through him. He really loved teasing her, but he was more than grateful that she was around…the only good thing in his life. When he finally made the choice to runaway from Terry, Mickey made sure that Mandy got out too. They never really talked about their messed-up childhoods, but Mickey liked to think that Mandy was the only bright spot of their dark upbringing. 

Mickey quickly made his way downstairs to the mailboxes in the lobby of his apartment building. He didn’t make it a habit to check his mail every day. Usually, all he got was junk and a paper copy of bills that he already paid online. So, he wasn’t incredibly surprised to see that there was a thick stack of mail waiting for him when he opened the tiny slot. He ran back up to his place and started sorting through everything. Junk, junk, bill, junk, Mandy’s card, more junk. As he took aside Mandy’s card, he noticed something else about the rest of the stack. Almost every other envelope seemed to have the name Michael Malkovich on it. Mickey rolled his eyes for the second time that evening. His name was fucking Mikhailo Milkovich…. not John Smith. ‘It shouldn’t take a rocket scientist to tell the difference between two different names,’ Mickey thought to himself as he tore open Mandy’s card. 

As he opened the envelope, a check slid out onto the floor. Mickey stared at the check for several moments. Five hundred dollars seemed to be the number that was staring back at him, but that couldn’t be right. ‘Where the hell did Mandy get five hundred dollars from?’ Mickey thought to himself. He could understand stealing it, but this was a check. What was Mandy doing with five hundred legitimate dollars to just give away? Mickey went to his room and crashed out onto his bed. 

He was done with the day. His greasy hands, his dirty bathroom, his unknown neighbors’ mail, and that five hundred dollars were all problems that he would deal with tomorrow. Right now, the day before his birthday, he just needed rest. 

The Next Day

Mickey’s eyes sprang open. Perhaps it was the beam of sunlight creeping through his blinds, maybe it was the fact that it was his birthday, or maybe it was the memory of a five-hundred-dollar check sitting on his nightstand, but Mickey felt a sense of determination today. He was 23 now. There had been this maddening feeling in the back of Mickey’s mind to change things around or to be more of an adult. He had no clue about what that entailed, but he was going to figure it out. Mickey figured he should start with a phone call back to his sister. Two years ago, he would have spent the money she sent him on beer and weed, but this was a new day.

“Hey fuckface. Wake your hungover ass up! I have a question for you.”

“What makes you think I’m hungover asshole?” Mandy replied groggily.

“Because it’s a day that ends in Y, that’s how I know. Tell me something, where did you get all of this money?”

“First of all, go fuck yourself. Secondly, what do you care where the money came from? It’s from me, and it’s legitimate. That’s all that matters.”

“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t out there sucking off a bunch of northside geezers just to get me a birthday present.”

“Okay, well fuck you again. Also, no. Bartending at clubs on the northside doesn’t make me a prostitute, but I do get great tips. Anyway, I have like three jobs, and I’ve been saving for a long time. I wanted to get you something nice for your birthday. What’s nicer than honest money that you can use to treat yourself. No one deserves it more than you Mickey.”

“Huhhh. Once again, you’re making me feel bad for saying horrible things to you. Be a good sister and treat me like an asshole every now and again,” Mickey joked. 

“Maybe you should just face the facts, Mick. You are an asshole. There’s no changing that.”

“Fair point. I don’t know what I’m going to do to treat myself though. I can’t fit another tattoo anywhere…”

“No Mickey! By treat yourself I mean, get dressed up. Go out to a nice restaurant. Talk to actual guys. Go on a date. There’s more to life than that garage you work in and stale, cold pizza at home.”

“Alright, alright. Jesus. Get off my dick about it. I’ll figure it out.” 

“Good but figure the rest out by yourself because I am hungover, and I want to go back to bed.”

“Bye Mandy,” Mickey laughed.

As he hung up the phone, he turned around Mandy’s words in his head. He wanted to break his routine and do something new, but that was easier said than done. You can take the boy out of southside, but you can’t take the southside out of the boy. Definitely not this boy anyway. Mickey didn’t know much else. How was he supposed to fit in at a stuffy, fancy restaurant? All he had to his name were his Fuck-U-Up tattoos and a bunch of holey death metal t-shirts. Mickey Milkovich and upper crust don’t exactly go together. 

Mickey looked down at his mail. There on his kitchen table lay the answer. Mickey Milkovich may not be upper class, but whoever this Michael Malkovich was, he seemed to know a thing or two about being fancy. Among his mail was a subscription to GQ magazine and bill statements for a fancy SUV and a black card. This guy seemed to have his shit together. Michael Malkovich was just the type to know how to spend five hundred dollars. 

He went to the building manager to ask about the right place to drop off his neighbor’s mail. After discovering that Michael lived just two floors above him, Mickey silently wondered to himself what a rich guy like Michael Malkovich was doing in a dump like this one. As he knocked on the door, he was unsurprised when a posh looking, smug man opened it. He looked like he should be on the set of a CW show. Mickey had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. 

“Hi, can I help you?”

“No, man. You can’t help me, but I can help you by giving you your mail. The dumbass mail guy put these in my box by mistake.”

“Alright, thanks I guess,” Michael said indifferently as he began to close the door.

“Hey, wait a minute. Do you have any of my mail? The name is Mickey Milkovich, or Mikhailo Milkovich.”

“Oh, I guess I see why they got confused. No man. I haven’t even really checked my mail here. This is just a flop house I use to take the girls I can’t bring home to mom. You know what I mean?” Michael smiled and raised his hand to Mickey for a high five.

“No. Not really, guy,” Mickey said as he stared at Michael’s hand disgustedly. 

“Alright, well if that’s it then I guess I’ll see you around bro,” Michael said disappointed. 

“Yeah, whatever. We’re not going to be fun neighbors that braid each other’s hair and dish about girls. Just let me know if any of my mail makes it your way. I’m in 3F. Bye.” Mickey left as fast as he could. Perhaps he should have been nicer, but the rich guy, douche vibes he was getting were too much to handle. Mickey was suddenly glad he had a little money to spend. He thought to himself, ‘if I did have money I could do better than that piece of shit.’ 

For some reason, that settled things. ‘If that privileged asshole can slum it in my neighborhood, then I’ll take a stab at living the high life for once,’ Mickey thought to himself.   
The rest of his birthday was spent pampering himself. He went and got a new haircut, bought a brand-new suit, and got a full spa treatment that he would never be bringing up to Mandy. He would never hear the end of it. 

Mickey thought he should cap things off with a drink at The Royal. It seemed like the fanciest place he could think of on the northside. He may not have been able to cover up his tattoos, but aside from that, Mickey was immensely proud of the way he cleaned up. He was even wearing some perfume soap shit to give off a more inviting vibe. Aside from the Fuck-U-Up tattoo, Mickey was indistinguishable from any other Richie rich in the building. 

About an hour and a half into his night, Mickey started to become uneasy. He watched and mirrored the other club-goers who were clearly having the time of their lives on mommy and daddy’s credit cards. Mickey seethed with jealousy at their luxury and contentment. This one-time event for him cost his sister hours and hours of work, and yet it was a mere drop in the bucket for everyone else. After his third overpriced whiskey, Mickey decided he had had enough ‘fun’ for one evening. He saw how the other half lived, but he didn’t think it was for him. 

Mickey buttoned his suit jacket, smoothed back his hair, and prepared to make his exit from the bar when he felt a slight tug on his elbow. Before he had a chance to turn around, a low husky voice whispered in his ear, “Leaving so soon, gorgeous?”

The sound of the voice instantly gave Mickey goosebumps. Mickey’s heart sank, and his stomach flipped all at once. He turned around quickly to see who had shook him to the core so swiftly. A flash of red hair and the most beautiful green eyes Mickey had ever seen were staring back at him.  
At a loss for words, Mickey’s defenses immediately went up. “What? Get the fuck off me. What’s wrong with you?”

“Whoa, okay tough guy. Relax. I just wanted to say hi. Thought you could use some company because it seemed like your date stood you up.”

“I’m not here on no fucking date asshole. I just came for a drink,” Mickey said, eyeing the redhead suspiciously. 

“Alright, no problem here. It just seems like you’re a little overdressed for just a drink, but my mistake. I’ll leave you alone.”

Mickey couldn’t tell why he was so on edge. It could have been the unfamiliar surroundings or the fact that a guy just hit on him out of nowhere. Mickey was completely out of the closet. It was the biggest reason he left his house at 16, but his upbringing made him feel like he could never let his guard down too easily. 

Although, Mickey felt his defenses crumbling pretty quickly. Something about those green eyes started to put him at ease. More than anything though, it was that smile. This little freckly, redhead was simultaneously infuriating and adorable with his non-stop smiling. It was as though the Raggedy Andy doll grew up to be a sex symbol. As he saw Raggedy Andy walking away, he felt a quick panic.

“Wait! Hold on. I’m sorry. You just caught me off guard is all. What’s your name?”

“I’m Ian. Ian Gallagher. What’s your name?”

Mickey paused for a moment before answering, “Michael. The name’s Michael Malkovich.”


	2. Being John Malkovich Ch. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey continues to lie about who he is to impress Ian

Mickey is not sure what possessed him to use a different name. Perhaps he was drunk, or just a little too caught up in ‘high-society’ living. In the moment, Mickey Milkovich didn’t feel like a guy who would chat with a cute redhead at a five-star rooftop bar, but ‘Michael Malkovich’ did stuff like this all the time. 

“Well Michael Malkovich, it’s such a pleasure to meet you. Can I buy you another drink?”

“Yeah, you can definitely buy me a drink. Whiskey, neat for me firecrotch,” Mickey smiled slyly.

“Firecrotch? Wow that’s good. I haven’t heard that since maybe ninth grade. You’re really pulling out the big guns to flirt with me tonight.”

“Flirt? I haven’t even gotten my drink yet. Let’s see how much I flirt with a couple more ounces of liquor in me Raggedy Andy.” 

“Firecrotch and Raggedy Andy. Impressive, but I’m going to need you to bring your redhead references to the 21st century Michael.”

“Call me Mike. And you’re going to have to buy me dinner and a movie first before you get the privilege of a 21st century reference from me,” Mickey started to smile as he sipped his drink. 

“An old soul, and old-fashioned. Wow, when I saw you across the bar, I thought I had a tramp who would be good to go. Now, I have to wine and dine you? It almost doesn’t seem worth it,” Ian replied with a coy smile.

“Keep talking and I’ll show you what I’m worth,” Mickey said in a low voice.

He couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk to this guy. Normally, Ian wouldn’t be his type. Here he was in a tailor-made suit and a million-dollar smile. He was used to a more rough-and-tumble type of guy from the southside. It was just more polished than he was used to, but as Ian went to order a drink for himself, Mickey took a closer look. Ian had a beautiful, sharp jaw line, and the sexiest pink lips Mickey had ever seen. His skin was translucent and peppered with the most eye-catching, red freckles. His hands were deceptively small. Mickey was struck with a sudden curiosity… ‘what would those hands feel like wrapped around me?’ He had to know.

“So, do you live around here Mike?” 

“Listen, do you want to chit chat more, or do you want to get on me?”

“Right to the point. I like it,” Ian said as his eyes squinted lustily. 

Ian finished his drink in one shot. “My room card is right here,” Ian said. 

He slid the card over the bar into Mickey’s hand, taking care to lightly brush his fingers. Mickey felt himself harden slightly at Ian’s ghost of a touch. Mickey was no stranger to one-night stands, but those were more about efficiency for him. He’d head down to the Fairy Tale for a mutual hand job once and a while, but for him it was like checking off an errand. This, on the other hand, felt a little more high stakes. Mickey was a stranger in a strange land. The moment felt exotic and otherworldly. 

Ian lead the way to the elevators. As soon as the doors closed, Ian pounced. He attacked Mickey’s mouth, savoring the very taste of him. Mickey gave as good as he got. Their tongues dueled for dominance, but Mickey was more than happy to let Ian win this round. Mickey felt those strong hands he had been obsessing over. One cradled Mickey’s face while the other made its way to his belt line. Suddenly, the elevator door chiming stopped them in their tracks. A young couple got in, staring at the pair awkwardly. Mickey started to adjust his suit, surprised at his own ravenous behavior. He took a chance glance over to Ian who immediately began to smile. A small snort of laughter erupted from Mickey, followed quickly by Ian. Thankfully, the elevator door chimed once more, while Ian indicated that this was their floor. They made their way past the, clearly, uncomfortable couple as Ian turned to head down the hall.

Ian stopped at the door and swiped the key, he paused turning to Mickey.

“Last chance to walk away.”

“No one’s walking away, Firecrotch,” Mickey said softly as he leaned up to plant a small kiss on Ian’s lips. 

Ian pushed open the door and gestured for Mickey to head inside. The second the door was closed, Ian pounced again. Mickey was ready for him this time around. He yanked away Ian’s shirt from the hem of his pants and proceeded to rip the buttons away. Suddenly, Mickey felt that there was just too much fabric between them. Both men hurriedly ripped away each stitch of clothing they could get their hands on. Mickey was falling over Ian to make his way to the bedroom. Mickey felt five years younger in his anticipation.   
Something about being with Ian sparked a feverish energy into him. This morning he woke up wanting to feel more adult, and tonight he was being reckless in the most adult way possible. Ian stood marveling at what he had before him. Mickey had never felt so exposed and vulnerable before. 

“What the hell are you staring at?” Mickey questioned.

“I can’t help it. I was right. You’re gorgeous.”

Mickey’s pale unmasked skin must have turned three different shades of red. He could feel the heat pool to his ears. Never had he felt so bare before. Not just his lack of clothing, but Ian’s words had stripped him of all defenses. 

“You’re not so bad yourself there Raggedy Andy,” Mickey replied.

All Ian did was smile that infuriating smile. He approached Mickey, and gave him another soft, chaste kiss. As Ian slowly made his way down Mickey’s body, he couldn’t help but reflect. He stared at the clock reading 12:47am. Despite his birthday being over for only forty-seven minutes, Mickey could safely say it was the best one he ever had. 

The Next Morning 

Mickey awoke with a start. Not being in his own bed, in his small apartment was throwing him for a loop. Finally, his sleep-ridden brain woke up enough for the memories of the previous night to come flooding back. He remembered buying a suit, drinking whiskey, and a sexy redhead. Sure enough, a tall, sexy redhead came striding into the room, already fully clothed. 

“Jesus. You’re already dressed? What time is it?”

“I’ve been up for two hours. It’s 8:30am, and time for breakfast. I ordered a few things from room service because I wasn’t sure what you would want,” Ian replied jauntily. 

“So, you’re one of those early to bed, early to rise freaks?”

“Actually, I think you saw last night what kind of freak I am,” Ian quipped. 

Mickey stared back and smiled. The events of the previous night were fresh in both of their minds. The tension lay thickly between them. Ian was first to break the silence.

“Listen, Mike after breakfast I was just going to be walking around the city today. Do you want to join me?”

“Mike?” Mickey questioned for a moment. Then, that little piece of information slowly came back to him from the night before as well. Ian still thought he had a slick, businessman on his hands. The guilt of the small, white lie started to creep up on him.

“Well, actually, I have to get to work later today. I better get going.” Still the truth, Mickey reasoned with himself. He did, in fact, have to go to work. He would just be trading in his brand-new suit for a jumpsuit at the garage. 

“I only took off yesterday because it was my birthday,” Mickey admitted.

“Oh, a birthday boy. You should have told me. I would have done something extra special for you,” Ian replied coyly. “I can definitely give you a birthday present now if you like.”

Mickey could feel the heat rushing to his ears again. “As fun as that sounds… and it really does sound like a lot of fun… I really have to get going.”

“What do you do for work that you have to run out of here so quickly on a Saturday?” Ian questioned.

“I’m a lawyer,” Mickey invented wildly as he sprang out of bed. "I've got to do, briefs, documents, torts... all that bullshit before court on Monday." He started to gather up his clothes which were strewn, seemingly, everywhere across the hotel room. 

“Oh yeah,” Ian questioned. “At which firm? You might know some buddies of mine.”

“Uhh, my firm is called Terry, Mandson, and Mikhailo. Why? What the fuck do you care if I know your friends,” Mickey asked as he pulled on his pants.

“Didn’t say I cared. Just curious is all,” Ian replied coolly as he watched a frantic Mickey look for his shoes. 

Mickey looks up from his shoe search to see Ian in what he can only describe as the sweetest puppy-dog face Mickey has ever seen. Mickey melts more quickly than he would ever admit.

“Look, I’m sorry. I have it on good authority from my sister than I’m an asshole. I have to leave, but here’s my number in case you want to wine and dine me again. Ian’s returning smile put a spring in Mickey’s step.

On the train back home, Mickey felt himself beaming. He only set out to spend a little money and feel like a wealthy man for a day. However, Ian did more to make him feel good than anything else. He wasn’t too sure if he would hear from Ian again. That thought put a damper on his mood, but he was glad to have that one night with him. 

Several Hours Later

Mickey’s fears about never hearing from Ian again were quickly squashed. As he stood in the garage working on some douchebag’s motorcycle, he felt the familiar buzzing of a text.

Hey, it’s Ian…or Firecrotch…. Or Raggedy Andy… or even Gingerballs. However, you chose to remember me, it’s the guy from last night.

Mickey beamed immediately, laughing to himself.

Did you add Gingerballs to the list? It’s no fun if you call yourself that. 

I figured I would take that one away from you so you could come up with something a bit more clever.

Are you doubting my ability to be clever?

Well, I’ve only seen a small sample of your skills. It’s going to take more than that to impress me.

Small? My ability to be clever is huge. At least above average.

Well, I was definitely more than satisfied, but I’m going to need a larger sampling size of your cleverness to judge accurately.

Just say when, and I will give you more cleverness than you can handle.

How about next Thursday?

Great! Sounds like a plan.

I can pick you up. Just text me your work address this week and we’ll be all set. Have a good one, Mike!

The excitement Mickey felt seconds before turned to cringe. Mickey looked around at the rustic garage where he worked. There was no way anyone was mistaking this place for a law firm. He definitely couldn’t let Ian come inside his apartment. That wasn’t much better. Why did he have to lie? If he was going to keep this up, he would have to figure something out.


	3. Being Michael Malkovich Ch. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey's attempt to tell the truth doesn't go as planned.

Over the next few days, Mickey was in good spirits. He kept telling himself that it was just because he was most likely going to get laid again, but a little voice in the back of his mind kept saying there was something more to it than that. Still, a smile never seemed to leave his face. 

It was the first thing Mandy noticed as they sat down to breakfast in Mandy’s apartment. Well, at least some version of that. Mandy elbowing her two roommates to get the last bit of Cap’n Crunch for her and Mickey to share was what she considered “making breakfast.” 

“Ewww look at your face! There’s actually a smile there. What’s gotten into you? Or, who’s gotten into you?” Mandy questioned happily.

“Jeez, can’t a guy smile and not get shit for it around here?” Mickey said as he tried to sound grumpy.

“It’s just weird. I haven’t seen you this happy since you found out dad went back to jail,” Mandy exclaimed. “Sooooo,” she continued.

“Soooo, what?”

“So, who has gotten into you? It can’t be one of those toothless morons you meet outside of the Fairy Tale. You see the same faces there every week. It has to be someone new,” Mandy reasoned. 

Mickey rolled his eyes at his sister’s persistence. “Okay, fine. It’s no big deal. There’s just this guy I met at The Royal last weekend. We banged, and I’m going to see him again tonight,” Mickey admitted. 

“Banged? You’re a real romantic Mick.” 

“There’s nothing romantic about it. It was just a one time thing. Like I said, no big deal.”

“Well, if it was just a one night type of thing, then why are you seeing him again tonight?”

“Well…. shut up stupid,” Mickey finished lamely. He really hated his sister arguing back with basic logic.

Mandy put on a triumphant smile, “Oh, you really like him. Tell me a little bit about him. What’s he do? Where’s he from? Is he cute?”

“Ugh. Would you stop. We’re not at a fucking slumber party.”

“C’mon, Mick. Just tell me three things about him, and I’ll shut up about it. I promise,” Mandy said as she crossed her fingers. 

“Just three things? Okay, fine. His name is Ian, he has red hair, and he’s got a lot more money than I do. Happy now?”

“How do you know he has more money than you?”

“First of all, everyone has more money than I do. Anyway, he had a tailor-made suit, and a huge room at one of the nicest hotels in the city. A guy like that has money coming out of his ass.”

“That’s not a big deal. Also, he clearly doesn’t care about you not being rich if you two are going out again tonight,” Mandy reasoned.

Mickey looked down shiftily avoiding Mandy’s eyes. “Yeah well, he thinks I’m rich too.”

“What would give him that idea?”

“I kind of told him my name was Michael Malkovich, and that I’m some lawyer at a big firm,” Mickey said still looking away.

“What? Why would you do that? That’s fucking stupid.”

“Well, this is technically your fault,” Mickey said riling up. “You’re the one who told me to ‘treat myself.’ Be fancy and all of that stupid shit.” 

“Don’t blame this on me! I told you to have a good time. I didn’t tell you to make up a completely new identity for yourself like you’re in some kind of spy movie. That’s all on you, jackass.”

Mickey’s anger deflated. He knew Mandy was right, but admitting the lie out loud made him realize the severity of the jam he had gotten himself into. 

“I’m not sure what to do. He said he wants to pick me up at my ‘office’ tonight, and I still haven’t given him the address.”

“Just suck it up and tell him the truth. Stop being such a pussy.”

“So glad, we could have this heart to heart sis,” Mickey said rolling his eyes.

“Any time, big brother.”

Several hours later

Mickey stood outside of his apartment complex that evening, pacing back and forth. A sudden burst of warm, summer breeze was nothing short of a miracle right now. Mickey was starting to sweat, and he would rather attribute it to the day’s humidity rather than to him being nervous. 

Mickey had never once been ashamed of where he was from. Quite the opposite. He proclaimed his southside lineage for all to hear. Even the meekest of the earth held credibility to Mickey if they grew up southside. You had to be, at least, a little tough to make it through there. 

So, Mickey couldn’t figure out where these nerves were coming from. When he finally texted Ian his actual address, Mickey told himself he was going to come clean. There was no sense in lying anymore. 

Mickey made one more attempt to smooth out his crisp, clean button down shirt. It was the only other shirt he owned where the sleeves weren’t cut off. As he situated his clothes just as he wanted them, he watched Ian pull up. ‘Shit. I’m way out of my league here,’ Mickey thought to himself.

As Ian finished parking in front of the building, he hopped out of the car to approach Mickey. Mickey could actually feel his mouth watering as he caught an eyeful of Ian. He knew Ian was good looking, but this was ridiculous. Ian glided toward him in a sharp, navy blue blazer with a button down shirt. His red hair was slicked back to near perfection. There was just one small lock of hair that dangled in front of Ian’s face. Mickey was struck with a strong desire to tuck that strand of hair behind Ian’s ear. He had to steady his hands to keep from touching him on instinct. 

Mickey was almost too busy objectifying the man, before he noticed the direction of Ian’s gaze. Ian was staring up, in what looked to be confused amazement, at Mickey’s apartment building. Despite being caught off guard momentarily, Mickey was immediately brought back to sobering reality. Mickey opened his mouth to get everything off his chest, but he was interrupted. 

“Wow. I assumed you worked in criminal law, but you must work directly with the clients if this is your work base,” Ian said, sounding impressed. 

“Criminal law?” Mickey questioned. Fuck no. I have to come clean with you man,” Mickey said before taking a deep breath. Crime did use to be my main source of income, but I’m just more of a labor guy now. I’m not what you think…” Mickey began.

“Labor law? That’s really fucking cool, man. We need more lawyers on the southside helping blue-collar workers. Too many hard-working people get fucked over by the system.” 

Mickey stood there confused. Jesus, here he was trying to come clean, and this guy still thought he was a fancy ass lawyer. He spent hours and hours laboring over cars and motorcycles. How the fuck was he supposed to know there was even a such thing as Labor Law? Not only did Ian still think he was a lawyer, he actually thought Mickey was a good guy…helping out the poor and shit. Little did he know, Mickey was the poor. 

“Look, Ian, we can’t do this. It just doesn’t feel right…” Mickey began as he rubbed the tip of his nose.

“Wait…I’m sorry,” Ian interrupted. “I know I’m coming on way too strong, way too soon. I just got here and started talking about your work when you probably just got off from a long day. We don’t have to talk about work or anything heavy. We don’t even have to go to the restaurant. Let’s just drive for a bit. If you really want out, I’ll just drop you off wherever you want.”

Mickey looked up and saw that look again. Those little puppy dog eyes, and that one stupid fucking lock of hair that refused to remove itself from Ian’s adorable face. 

“Yeah, alright,” Mickey sighed. He could tell him later. ‘A quick car ride, and he would tell him at the end of the night,’ Mickey told himself. 

“You lead the way Firecrotch,” Mickey smiled.

Ian returned the smile quickly. “Sure thing short-stuff,” Ian said before noticeably cringing. 

“No, man. It clearly doesn’t work as well when you do it,” Mickey said laughing as he shook his head. 

As they hopped in the car and began to drive, Mickey felt himself relax. He couldn’t deny that he felt a certain ease with Ian. Mickey didn’t even like riding in cars. It used to be that any time he was in a car he was either with his cousins as they dragged him along to a robbery, with the police as they were taking him to juvie, or with a child services worker as they threw him to another shitty foster home. 

Being in the car with Ian felt exciting though. That short and strange mixture of adrenaline and contentment that he felt on his first night with Ian came roaring back. He didn’t know where Ian was driving them, but he took note of Ian’s self-assuredness. For a wealthy guy, Ian really seemed at ease in Mickey’s part of town. Every twist and turn they made felt deliberate and knowing. ‘Ian Gallagher is certainly full of surprises,’ Mickey thought to himself. 

They arrived at their destination more quickly than expected. Ian pulled his car up next to the fence of a baseball field. As they began walking toward the field, Mickey was hit with a wave of déjà vu. 

“Holy shit. I know this place,” Mickey exclaimed. “I used to do little league here when I was ten!”

“Really? That’s crazy, so did I!” 

“You grew up southside?” Mickey questioned.

“Yeah, man. Most definitely. You did too?”

“Born and raised Raggedy Andy!” Mickey exclaimed. He was unable to keep the smile from his face. “How in the actual fuck did you end up where you are today coming from southside?”

“My story’s simple enough. Alcoholic dad named Frank, and a bi-polar drug addict mom named Monica had six kids. We basically raised ourselves and made a pact that we wouldn’t end up like those two assholes… and here I am today,” Ian finished with his arms outstretched as if to say ‘Ta-Dah.’ “I could ask you the same question.”

“Oh, me? Classic fairy tale of course. Mom died of cancer when me and my sister were still young. Raised by an abusive, homophobic piece of shit. Got out when I was sixteen and never looked back.”

“Hmmm. It sounds like our families are two sides of the same shitty coin, huh? But just because we lived here doesn’t mean we have to end up here,” Ian added.

“Yeah, I guess so. So much for not getting into the heavy shit though,” Mickey joked.

“Ah shit. I’m sorry man. It’s just my instinct to swap horror stories with people, but I understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“No man, I’m joking," Mickey said. He and Ian stared at one another for a second too long. Mickey got more than he bargained for with Ian.

You’re actually getting me kinda hard Gallagher. Here I thought I had some sensitive, privileged little rich boy. And here you are…. a rough-and-ready, privileged little rich boy,” Mickey teased. 

“Oh, you’re going down asshole,” Ian laughed as he tackled Mickey to the ground. 

As they wrestled back and forth on home plate, Mickey marveled at his circumstances. Nearly fifteen years ago he was being kicked off this baseball field by the commissioner for pissing on first base. Now, he was here playing grab-ass on the empty field. 

Ian managed to pin both of Mickey’s arms on the dirt-covered plate. This wasn’t the first time that Mickey was more than happy to submit to Ian’s desires. He looked up at Ian’s crystal blue eyes and saw lust and craving looking back. 

“What are you going to do now tough guy?” Ian challenged him. As Ian hovered over him, straddling his waist, Mickey could feel him harden. Mickey welcomed the challenge as he leaned his head up towards Ian, indicating his desires. Ian quickly took the hint and met him with a searing kiss. There was no room for polite affection. Mickey could feel every bit of Ian’s passion and yearning, and he matched his energy without hesitance. 

As Ian’s tongue begged entrance, Mickey acquiesced with great enthusiasm. Ian released one of Mickey’s arms to explore as much as he could touch. Mickey rewarded Ian’s exploratory mission by bucking his hips up to grind against the succulent redhead. Ian let out a low groan of appreciation and desire. He met Mickey’s movements with his own hips thrusting into Mickey’s over and over. Just as Mickey thought he could take no more, Ian paused to move closer to Mickey’s ear. 

“I want you so badly, Mike,” Ian whispered softly. 

Mickey stopped in his tracks. For the second time that evening, he was brought crashing back down into reality. Mickey pushed Ian away from him with more force than he intended. 

“What? What’s wrong? Mike, did I hurt you,” Ian questioned pleadingly.

“No. No. You didn’t do anything. I just need to stop for a second.” Mickey sat up and started dusting himself off. 

“Mike, you’re a cool guy, and I like hanging out with you, but I don’t know if I can do this,” Ian said, seriously. 

“Do what?”

“This back and forth bullshit. I think we’re both a little old for this. One minute you’re hot, and the next minute you’re cold. If you don’t want to get too serious, just say that, but don’t lead me on either.”

“Look, Ian, it’s not that. I swear.”

“Well than what is it,” Ian questioned angrily.

Here it was, this was the moment of truth… literally. ‘He’s not going to set you up any better than that,’ Mickey thought to himself.

“Ian, I…” but Mickey’s next words were cut short by the sudden appearance of the sprinklers. Water began to shoot up all around them. Both men shot up and started running to the car to avoid being soaked any further. As they piled into Ian’s car, they both began to laugh. The heaviness of the situation slowly released itself with each passing breath.

“Look, Ian, let’s just head to a bar, grab a drink, and we can talk."

“Alright, I know a bar not too far from here.”

For the next two minutes, Mickey avoided Ian’s sideways glances by looking out the window as they drove. Mickey recognized The Alibi as the place where he had scraped his drunk father from the floor after a few drunken nights and barroom brawls. They were greeted by a tall, goofy looking guy with a ponytail. Mickey noticed that Ian seemed to know the bartender, so he went to grab a booth as Ian grabbed the drinks. 

Mickey began wrapping his pale, white knuckles against the table. How was he going to tell this guy that he already slept with that he completely lied about his identity? It wasn’t the easiest conversation to have. He was thinking he would rather give Mandy ‘the talk’ again than to go through this. 

The thought didn’t get any easier as Ian approached the booth handing him a beer. Part of Mickey wanted to say, ‘fuck this,’ and run out of there. However, as Ian sat down across from him, Mickey knew he couldn’t just walk away. There was something he was beginning to feel with Ian that he had never experienced before. Looking into Ian’s eyes, he realized that Ian at least deserved the truth, and the right to make his own decision. 

“Ian, look, I have to be hon….”

“Heyyyyy, it’s the neighbor guy, 3F. It’s 3F everybody” a voice from the other end of the bar called out. Mickey turned around to see a clearly drunk, but oddly familiar frat looking guy make his way to their table. When Mickey’s brain registered the face coming toward them, his already pale skin turned chalk white.

“WHAT’S UP MICKEY MILKOVICH!!! It’s me, your neighbor Michael Malkovich from 5F,” Michael said as he clapped Mickey on the back. 

“Hey guy. Hey you. You with the red hair. Guess which one is which! You’ll never tell us apart, so I’ll just tell you… I’m Mike, and this is Mickey. Isn’t that crazy?” Michael asked happily as he started slurring his words. 

Ian looked between the two confusedly. Although, Mickey noticed, he didn’t seem happy about the new, unwelcome guest.

“Hey Mickey, it turns out that I did get some of your mail. I accidentally opened it because I thought it was mine. Dude, your struggle is real, man. One of your bank statements came in. How do you live off of that tiny little salary bro? It was sad. No wonder that shitty apartment complex is the only place you can afford. Just let me know if you ever want me to hook you up with a few bucks. I’m sure my dad can get you a job somewhere,” Michael continued. 

“Dude! You need to shut the fuck up,” Mickey said, heating up. 

“Whoa, okay bro. Just come get your mail whenever. If I don’t answer it’s because I’m hooking up with those two skanky girls,” Michael said, pointing to two women near the pool table. “Or at my real apartment in the city. I’ll catch you later,” Michael said, attempting to give a high five. “Oh yeah, I forgot you don’t do high fives. Well, I’ll see you later Mickey Milkovich!” Michael said, leaving as quickly as he came. 

Mickey was left stunned, as he turned back to Ian.


	4. Being Michael Malkovich Ch. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey has some explaining to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of Being Michael Malkovich. I'm not too happy with how it came out, but I just had to put it out there. Thanks to anyone who has enjoyed this.

As Mickey turned back around to Ian, he could feel the color drain from his face. He tried to speak, but no words would leave his lips. It was as though his mouth was glued shut. As he looked at Ian’s face, Mickey expected to see anger or disgust there, but instead there was nothing. Ian’s face was blank and unreadable. Mickey felt tortured by the passing time. Were they sitting there for hours or seconds? Mickey wasn’t sure. The humidity of the summer night suddenly felt extinguished as they both sat there lifeless in the world’s most awkward staring contest. Ian finally began to speak.

“What was that?” Ian asked measuredly. 

“Ian…” Mickey began slowly as he finally found his voice.

“What in the actual fuck was that?” Ian’s voice became much more tense. 

“Ian it’s not what you think,” Mickey began again, but he had no real idea what he was going to say.

“It’s not what I think? I don’t know what to think. This is, quite possibly the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen,” Ian said as he stood up from the booth. 

“Just let me explain it to you,” Mickey pleaded as he lightly grabbed for Ian’s hand.

Ian snatched his hand away from Mickey’s grasp. Feeling Ian recoil from him made Mickey feel a desperation he had never experienced before. He sprung up from the booth as if standing would help the right words spring to mind, but Ian stopped him before his thoughts could form.

“I don’t want you to explain anything to me. Just tell me this; what’s your name?” Ian asked. 

“My name is Mickey. Mickey Milkovich,” 

“Great. Fuck off Mickey Milkovich,” Ian said before turning to walk out the door. 

Ian never raised his voice, but Mickey felt his words trickle down his entire body making him wince. As Ian walked out of the door, Mickey snapped to attention, and rushed out behind him.

“Hey, Ian! Hold up a second,” Mickey yelled as Ian was opening his car door.

“You just going to run out like a little bitch without letting me explain?” Mickey antagonized. 

Ian slammed his car door shut. Even in the dim glow of the streetlights next to The Alibi Mickey could see Ian’s burning red cheeks as he marched back over to him. 

“Seems to me that the ‘little bitch’ here is the one who can’t open his mouth without lying. I’d say that’s a real bitch move, don’t you think?” Ian asked as he stared Mickey down. Ian was just two inches away from Mickey’s face, but he refused to back away. 

“Why are you so dramatic? You’re acting like we’ve been married for forty years or some shit. I lied about my name. That’s all. Get over it Firecrotch because it’s not a big deal,” Mickey said with more resolve than he actually felt.

“I’m dramatic? You made up an entire fucking persona. I don’t know what’s true and what’s not true. I don’t even know who I fucked the other night!” Ian exclaimed.

Mickey looked around the empty street to see if their screams were drawing attention, but Ian didn’t seem to care. 

“Relax, alright. I lied about my name. And no, I’m not some fancy dumbass lawyer. Are you happy now? Everything else I told you was the truth,” Mickey exclaimed.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me the truth from the beginning? Instead, I had to hear it from some douchebag in the bar. Were you ever going to be honest, or did you think you could just fuck me a few more times before the truth came out?”

“It wasn’t like that. What do you care anyway? If it wasn’t me, you would have just taken someone else to your hotel room that night. Go back to your rich friends and tell them you got to slum it with southside trash.”

“Rich? I’m an EMT asshole. I didn’t just grow up here. I still live in this neighborhood. Stop making excuses for being a pathetic, psycho liar.”

A wave of anger and indignation replaced Mickey’s feelings of guilt and shame. He couldn’t let Ian leave this way. He had lied to Ian and lied to himself…all for nothing. Something about Ian’s use of the word ‘pathetic’ made his insides wretch. He wanted to impress him, but Ian was looking down on Mickey as though he were nothing. 

“Fuck you, Ian. Would you have even approached me if you didn’t think I had money? You’re worse than a wealthy asshole. Don’t blame me for distracting you from the rich, old man balls you’re used to chasing down.”

Mickey saw Ian’s eyes flash dangerously before he felt the punch to his face. The force of Ian’s blow knocked Mickey down onto the sidewalk. Before he had a chance to react, he could hear Ian’s car door slam shut. The first thing he saw when he opened his now swollen eye was Ian’s taillights as he drove away. 

One week later 

Mickey stood in front of his bathroom mirror tenderly touching the healing bruise on his eye. Not for the first time that week, he wondered how he had gotten to this point. He replayed the moment over and over in his mind, but Mickey still couldn’t come up with an answer as to why he reacted the way he did. He couldn’t help himself. Instead of saying ‘I’m sorry,’ or ‘I was wrong. Let me make it up to you,’ Mickey had done what he always does…deflect his feelings and lash out. Mickey winced as he pressed a little too hard on his black eye. ‘Fuck this,’ he thought to himself.

Mickey left the bathroom and grabbed his phone from the couch before crashing down into the cushions. He scrolled through his text messages until Ian’s name popped up. Mickey started typing, but quickly realized he didn’t know what to say. ‘Ian, I’m sorry about all that…’ he began, but tapped quickly to erase his half-hearted apology. After hovering his thumb over the phone, he decided to just call Mandy. 

“Hey. What are you up to today?”

“Well, I was enjoying my one day off this week until you called, douchebag,” Mandy joked.

“Whatever. Listen, do you want to hang out tonight?”

“Can’t. I have a date.”

“Just cancel it. Jerking off the first guy to look at you at the bar does not count as a date anyway,” Mickey joked.

“You really are a dedicated asshole to the end. Alex, the cute waiter from work, finally asked me out. There’s no way I’m canceling on him,” Mandy replied.

“Alright, fine. I guess I’m on my own tonight,” Mickey sighed.

“You don’t have to be. You could call Ian and apologize,” Mandy suggested.

“It’s too late for an apology. We kind of reached the point of no return when he socked me in my fucking eye,” Mickey exclaimed. 

“Well, don’t act like you didn’t deserve it Mick. From the story you told me, I would have run you over with my car.”

“Wouldn’t put it passed you Mands. I just don’t know what to say. Anyway, it’s been a week. I’m sure he’s moved on by now.”

“Ugh. Of course he’s moved on. I’m sure he doesn’t want a little whiny chickenshit.”

“Fuck you! I’m not whining.”

“Yes you are. Just be a man and apologize. Why is that so difficult? Are you afraid of a little redhead?”

“You’re a dick.”

“I guess it runs in the family. Look Mickey, you actually sounded happy when you were talking about this guy. Just talk to him and apologize. What could it hurt? I just don’t want to see you alone and unhappy because you couldn’t own up to one mistake.”

“Alright, Jesus. Don’t get all Dr. Phil on me. I’ll call him. Go enjoy your date stupid.”

“Let me know how it goes. Love you, idiot.”

Mickey felt slightly better talking to Mandy. Her pep talk served its purpose. Mickey went to the fridge to grab a beer feeling a little liquid courage would embolden him a bit more. He grabbed his phone again and found Ian Gallagher’s name. As the phone rang, Mickey had a sinking feeling. When the rings quickly moved to voicemail, Mickey hung up in a panic. He wasn’t sure what he had to say could be expressed in a voicemail. He went to text Ian again, this time giving more thought as to what he wanted to express.

Hey Ian,  
I know we’re not exactly on speaking terms, but there is something that I want to get off my chest. I’m a mechanic from the southside of Chicago. I ran away from home at sixteen. My family consists of a mother who died when I was ten, a shitty father who’s in jail now, and my little sister Mandy who is also my best friend. I used to be a criminal, but now I watch Top Chef for fun. I played dress up on my birthday to forget about my life for a few minutes. Didn’t expect to meet a cute redhead. Mostly, I’m sorry for deceiving you. It wasn’t my intention, and you deserve better.

Sincerely,   
Mikhailo Milkovich a.k.a. Mickey

Also, sorry for the long as fuck text message, but next time answer your phone Pippi Longstocking.

Mickey stared at his phone for the next two minutes. He watched as three little dialogue bubbles appeared, and then faded away. That was that. Mickey would have preferred apologizing in person, but he realized he didn’t have any other way of contacting Ian. Mickey realized he didn’t know much about Ian at all. Trying to keep Ian in the dark about his real life only left Mickey with nothing but two memorable evenings with the redhead. Black eye aside, Ian had made quite the impression on him, and he had fucked it all up. ‘You live and you learn,’ Mickey thought to himself as he went to grab another beer from the refrigerator. 

Several hours later

Mickey was sprawled out on the couch. He had his head tucked into a particularly perfect spot in the cushions when he was brought out of his sleep by a loud pounding noise. Annoyed by the intrusion, Mickey slowly crawled off the couch and staggered to the door.

“What the fuck could anyone possibly want right now…” Mickey began as he peered through the peephole. The sight of bright red hair, and a pale freckled face stopped him mid-sentence. He made a failed attempt to smooth his sleeveless Slayer t-shirt and looked around at his small apartment before opening the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey, can I come in?” Ian asked softly.

“Sure thing,” Mickey said as he moved to the side, ushering Ian in. 

As Ian stood in the middle of the living room, Mickey couldn’t help but notice how attractive he was. Ian’s translucent skin and soft features stood out amongst the eggshell-colored walls of Mickey’s apartment. To stop himself from staring, Mickey decided to start talking. 

“How’d you find me?”

“It wasn’t difficult. You had already given me this address as your office building, and your drunk neighbor kept shouting ‘3F’ at you the other night. I put two and two together and here we are,” Ian explained. 

“Regular Sherlock Holmes over here. Well, allow me to give you the grand tour. In that room we have the kitchen. Back there is the bedroom, and right next to it is the bathroom. It’s like Buckingham Palace around…” Mickey was cutoff by Ian planting a soft, but firm kiss to his unsuspecting lips. 

“What was that for?” Mickey asked, confused. 

“I don’t know. I wasn’t planning that or anything. It’s just nice to meet the real you,” Ian explained looking just as confused by his actions as Mickey.

Mickey could feel his cheeks turn an embarrassing shade of pink. 

“So, I take it you got my texts?” Mickey implored.

“That’s why I’m here.”

“So you missed me then,” Mickey teased.

“Don’t push it,” Ian warned, but Mickey noticed as the corners of Ian’s lips twitched in a small smile. 

“Alright, well have a seat man. Do you want a beer?” Mickey asked as he wandered to the kitchen before waiting to hear Ian’s answer. 

Before Ian could become fully situated on the couch, Mickey returned with a beer in each hand. He silently held one out for Ian to grab. As their fingertips brushed together when Ian took the bottle, Mickey felt a warm purring in his stomach. 

“So Mike Tyson, did you come to finish me off?” Mickey asked as he sat on the other end of the couch.

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about that after the other night, but ultimately I came because I was intrigued. Not many of my dates end with me finding out about my date’s secret identity or me punching them in the face. This is all new territory for me, and I find you…curious.” Ian said. 

The two men stared at each other for a long moment. Mickey wanted nothing more than to leap across the couch and tear Ian’s clothes off, but he restrained himself. 

“First, I’m going to finish this beer. Then we’re going to get to know each other, and last, if you’re lucky, I’m going to go with you into the bedroom and satisfy all of your curiosities” Mickey stated matter-of-factly.

Ian raised his eyebrow in surprise. “What makes you think I’m that easy?”

“Well, ‘Mike’ had no problem getting into your pants. Mickey is at least offering a few minutes of conversation before he takes advantage of you.” 

“Wow, referring to yourself in the third person. I can see this is going to be a thrilling conversation,” Ian quipped.

“Just wait and see Firecrotch. I’m yours for the night. Ask me anything.”

Ian paused for a moment, “Ok. What do you want Mickey?”

“What do I want? What kind of weird ass question is that,” Mickey asked confused?

“Just what I said. What do you want? You come across like a tough guy, and you won’t let anything get to you. But someone who knows what he wants, and who he is wouldn’t have pretended to be someone else,” Ian reasoned. 

“What are you, my shrink? I wanted to have a night out and enjoy myself. What difference does it make?”

“The difference is you’re not free. When I saw you that first night, I saw a badass, with the palest skin I’ve ever seen and a ‘Fuck-U-Up tattoo across his knuckles. I knew I had to meet you. You were so different from every other pretentious asshole there. That’s who I wanted to get to know.”

Mickey looked at Ian as though he were seeing him for the first time. The earnestness in his clear blue eyes was breathtaking. No one had ever taken that kind of notice of him before.

“My sister gave me some money and told me to go have fun for once. I’m used to going to the same places day after day and seeing the same people. Everyone I meet either knows me by my last name or my father’s reputation. It felt good just to be someone else for a minute. I just wanted something new,” Mickey admitted. 

Mickey looked up to see Ian moving across the couch. Mickey tossed his beer to the side, not caring where it landed. He caressed Ian’s cheek with his thumb, taking care to cradle his face. Mickey attempted to move slowly and savor every bit of skin Ian had showing, but Ian had other plans. Ian lunged forward to devour the base of Mickey’s neck then shifted his knee silently pleading entrance between Mickey’s legs. Mickey quickly let Ian take the lead as he collapsed backwards onto the couch cushions. He melted in lust as Ian hovered over top of him, claiming his prize. Ian leaned down to Mickey’s ear moaning softly.

“You’re amazing. You know that Mickey?” his gravelly voice whispered in Mickey’s ear before lightly biting his lobe. “I need you to know how spectacular you are.”

Mickey’s heart leapt. He felt himself harden against Ian’s leg as the redhead continued his assault on Mickey’s ear. Mickey moved his hands away from roaming along Ian’s back to place them on his chest and push him away lightly. Ian bounded up quickly to let Mickey stand. 

“What’s wrong,” Ian breathed heavily, lust and confusion pooling in his eyes. 

“Come on Firecrotch. You’ve got work to do,” Mickey said before quickly removing his sleeveless Slayer shirt. Mickey made his way to the bedroom. He could feel Ian’s strong arms envelop him from behind as they tumbled onto Mickey’s unmade bed.

The next morning 

Mickey stirred comfortably in his twisted sheets. The faint sounds of running water caused him to blearily open his eyes. As he sat up, he realized he was smiling, trying to piece together segments of a good dream. Vague images of red freckles and soft lips drifted through his thoughts. The cascading water in the next room became louder, shaking Mickey from his reverie. It hadn’t been a dream. The evidence of Mickey’s previous night was strewn across the room as Mickey stared at the discarded clothes on his floor. If that wasn’t enough proof, the man in question opened the bathroom door to present himself. Mickey’s mouth nearly watered as he gawked at the soaking wet redhead standing in the middle of his bedroom with one of Mickey’s towels carelessly wrapped around his slender hips. 

“Finally! You’re awake. I’ve been bored for like an hour and a half. I finally decided to just hop in the shower.”

“Why the hell are you up so early? And who said you could use my shower,” Mickey asked as he playfully tugged on the hem of Ian’s towel.

“I’m always up this early. It’s an old habit from my JROTC days. Anyway, I’m a guest. Guests always get first priority for the shower.”

“JROTC? That explains the tattoo, Army brat,” Mickey teased as he planted a soft kiss to Ian’s lips. “Next time you want to use the shower, make sure you wait for me.”

“Come on get dressed. We’re going out for breakfast,” Ian said as he regretfully pulled away from Mickey to pick up his clothes. 

Mickey quickly got ready to head out the door. As much as he wanted to spend all morning in bed with Ian, he was oddly just as excited to sit across the breakfast table and talk.   
As they headed downstairs and made their way through the lobby, Mickey was stopped short in his tracks by the sound of a loud voice.

“MICKEY! What’s up dude? I haven’t seen you in a few days.” Mickey was torn between revulsion and disbelief of having to be in the presence of his neighbor once more. Despite neither Mickey nor Ian responding, Mike continued to talk.

“I had to jet out of town to Milan for a few days on business, but I’m back now. I’m lining up a bone-session for tonight. She’s a Chicago nine, but an L.A six so I thought I’d just bring her back to this shithole. You in for a good time? I’m sure she can find one of her friends for you. How about you ginger?” Mike asked looking between the two men standing before him.

“You’re Michael Malkovich right,” Ian asked.

“That’s right bro. Me and Mickey are sick name twins,” Mike said with an absent-minded smile on his face.

“Well Michael Malkovich, FUCK OFF. Mickey Milkovich will be spending the night with me,” Ian finished as he started walking towards the door. 

Mickey openly laughed at the incredulous look of disappointment on Mike’s face before following Ian out of the door. As they walked side by side on their way to breakfast, Mickey could feel a familiar flutter in his heart. Just two weeks ago, he had tried to be someone new and different. He was glad to have Ian by his side to show him he could have new and different and still be Mickey. He looked forward to finding out what that meant with Ian.

End.


End file.
